The Second Star to the Left
“What made the red man red? What made the red man red?” Even now, with water engulfing the whole of my body, I could hear his voice singing it over and over again. A few curious fish whirled around my head as if examining an alien object which had just been plunged into their pond. My feet floated slowly along the current but my hands were tired tightly to a heavy rock underwater, holding my body to stay where he had placed me.
“Is it cold in there, Lily? I doubt you would feel anything,” sneered Peter Pan as he was floating over me, his smirking face right above mine.
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It was when I was looking after the kids at the South Shore that I noticed something huge was moving towards us from the sea. It could move afloat like our canoes, only much bigger and threatening. For a moment, all of us paused and looked at it in awe, not knowing what to do; We had been living on this island longer than anyone could imagine, but not even once did we have a guest from the outside world. I took a step back and leaped into the wood, heading to where my father, our ogima, was.
“Father! Father!” I began to shout as the thickness of the trees faded, revealing a group of wigwams which sheltered us from rain and storms.
Mahkah, a young man with a long, deep scar on his cheek, came out of his wigwam as soon as he heard my alarming voice. “What’s wrong, Hurit?”
“Mahkah, have you seen my father? There’s something, someone, coming this way from the South Sea.”
He looked at me blankly for a brief moment as though my words could not reach him. I might not explain it thoroughly enough but he clearly sensed terror in my voice. Mahkah nodded before pointing west, to another part of the island where my father loved to spend his afternoons hunting. “He has just headed out that way. If we leave now, we should be able to catch up with him before he goes too far.”
I hurried after Mahkah, heart pounding fast with anxiety, eyes darting left and right, desperately looking for a sign of him. The sick feeling in my stomach told me that this arrival would not bring good news.
“There! Lesharo!” Mahkah cried out and rushed to him.
My father was checking his spear when he heard Mahkah’s call. Lifting an eyebrow, he walked back towards us. His eyes moved from Mahkah to me, then back to Mahkah again, silently demanding a proper explanation of our sudden appearance.
“Hurit said someone was coming from the South Sea,” explained Mahkah.
“I was near…the South Shore with other kids…when we saw it, their canoe.” I added, trying to catch my breath. “It looked a bit like our canoe but much, much larger…with a strange sign on a big cloth that’s hung from…” I wished to give him as many details as possible but it was not easy describing something you had never seen before to someone who did not know it, either. “From a very tall pole in the middle of their canoe…” I trailed off, frowning. Despite my attempt, these words did not seem to make any sense and I was sure they confused both my father and Mahkah. I looked down at the grass near my feet, feeling completely useless.
To my surprise, my father came over me and patted my head. “Thanks, Hurit. I see you’ve run all the way to tell me this. Can you take me back to where you saw it?”
Though I was panting heavily, I tried to force a weak smile and assured him that I could take him there as soon as he wanted. He smiled back approvingly before telling Mahkah to go back and get four more men to meet us at the shore.
Mahkah nodded silently. They exchanged a last worried glance and he dashed into the path we came from. Without saying another word, I scurried towards to the South Shore with my father close behind.
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“Who are they?” asked Mahkah nervously, looking at the newcomers from the place we had been hiding not so far away. Not long after my father and I got here, Mahkah appeared with our men, each clutching a spear in their hands. My father told one of them to escort the kids back and make sure everyone remain calm. As the oldest girl, this duty should be mine but I insisted on staying there with the rest of us. After a short moment of hesitation, my father nodded.
There was no answer from any of us. Leaning on the ground under the bush next to me, my father was observing them cautiously, unease and worry obviously reflected in his eyes.
When we arrived, the big canoe had stopped near the shore where I had been with other kids. Three smaller canoes with three or four men on each of them were coming towards us. By the time they almost reached the beach, I noticed something I could not see before from a further distance: their skin colour, unlike us, was pallid white.
“Are they...humans?” Another man beside my father murmured the question that was already ringing in our minds.
I had heard many stories about spirits, both good and bad ones, but had never come across any in my life. A shiver ran down my spine as I watched them getting off their boats. Perhaps they were spirits, I thought as I noted their strange dresses. My arms, even under the shadow of the bush I was hiding in, were reddish tanned. I had never imagined humans with other skin colour than this, but here they were, right before my eyes. My stomach turned as I watched these dead people, pale skin like blood had been drained from their body, strolled along our sandy beach as though they were still alive.
After we returned, there was a long discussion and everyone in our tribe, except for children, was summoned. There had been some strong arguments but at last it was decided to send five of our men, including my father, to talk to them to find out who they were and what their intention in coming to our island was.
The idea of sending our ogima with this group when we knew nothing of the strangers might be peculiar, but my father always considered himself one of our warriors.
“I won’t be hiding in the safety of my wigwam while I send other of our friends to risk their lives,” declared my father when someone disagreed with his decision, and it was settled.
When my father and other four men who volunteered to accompany him were ready to leave, it was already late afternoon. The rest of us saw them off at the farthest wigwam where the forest thickened. No one said a word after they left. There were concern and uncertainty floating in the air.
That afternoon seemed to last forever while I was waiting anxiously for them to come back, whether with good or bad news, and at last five familiar figures emerged from the wood. My father waved away all my questions as soon as other members in our tribe and I rushed to them, saying that they were exhausted from the trip.
After he and his men had a short break for some water, my father began to speak. “We had a talk with one of their chiefs. He told us that they were ‘pirates’.” He continued as he noticed confusion on our faces. “They said ‘pirates’ travel across oceans, looking for adventure and treasure.”
“What are they doing here then?” One of the men who were surrounding him asked.
“Getting some food and water for their journey, at least that was what they said.” My father let out a heavy sigh. “But I feel there’s something more to what they told us.”
“I don’t like the way they looked at us.” Another man next to my father shifted agitatedly. “Like they were sneering or looking down on us. Even their smiles made me feel threatened.”
“I agreed with you on that.” My father gave him a faint smile and turned to the rest of us, raising his voice to make sure we all could hear. “But they promised they will leave by nightfall tomorrow, and that should be it if they leave without causing any problem. There is no point raising our weapons to every stranger just because they look suspicious.”
A few people murmured in disagreement but the rest of us were satisfied with his decision. For strangers who came in a huge canoe and dressed in such weird clothes, I had no idea what kind of weapons they had, possibly ones better than ours. What the result would be – even with our strongest warriors – if we had to fight. I cast aside my fear and wished tomorrow come fast. Tomorrow when they would leave this island as promised.
But I was wrong.
We all were.
The strangers turned out to be enemies, and they did not play clean. They attacked in the middle of that night when most of us were sleeping, except for some who were sitting outside the wigwams, guarding our place as my father ordered. Since there had been only our tribe on this island, guards were never needed. Wild animals would not stray near our place as long as we left the fire on.
I was woken up by the sound I first thought was the roll of drum, but almost immediately realised it was something much more intimidating. Startled, I instinctively reached out for my mother. It was gloomy but not completely dark so the moment I touched my mother, I could see that the place where my father should be was empty.
“Father told us to stay here.” I heard my mother whispering, her voice trembling with dreadful fear.
We said nothing else. I clung closer to her, wishing desperately that this was only a dream – a nightmare. Soon I would wake up, my mother beside me, laughing when I told her about my childish dreams. But I did not wake up, and the sound that reminded me of drum roll was still continuously thumping, with shouts and screams in the background.
A few figures passed our wigwam. Dim though it was, I would never mistake my closest friend, Adsila. Her arm was bleeding and she was wailing frantically. A tall man, whom I remembered seeing in one of the canoes that afternoon, was violently dragging her. Behind them was another man, slightly shorter with long fair hair. Strolling casually as though it was a late-afternoon walk, he seemed to be enjoying himself by the surrounding chaos. His right hand was cheerfully swinging something resembling a black stick.
“Adsila!!” I reached out for her without a second thought, and it happened to be the thing I regretted the most in my entire life.
“Hmm, what have we here?” The man with fair hair poked his head into our wigwam, a broad evil grin on his face. My mother swiftly pushed me behind her but it was too late. “Give me that girl.” He commanded. “Give her to me, stinky redskin, or you die,” repeated the man. Something in his voice chilled me to the bone.
“Damn you!” My mother screeched and lunged to him.
Everything happened in a flash. It started with the familiar deafening noise I had been hearing since I woke up. My mother fell to the ground, blood gushing from her neck. The man, smirking, stood still where he was, barely moved. Thin smoke came out from the end of the stick in his hand.
“MOTHER!!!!” I screamed with terror, rushing to her side. “Mother!! Mother!!” Her neck and the ground around her were covered in red. I could smell blood everywhere; It must have hurt her severely, yet, through her tears, she tried to smile at me.
“Come, you red-skinned bitch.” The man with a broad grin grabbed my left arm and pulled me up so hard it ached. But my arm did not matter. He did not matter. Nothing did matter anymore when she was gone.
“Mother!! Mother!! Don’t die on me!!” I pledged at her lifeless body, fighting to let go of the hand that was squeezing my arm. Tears were running down my cheeks. I could barely see anything but her last picture still shone vividly in my mind. “Mother!!”
“Ah, shut up!” He rolled his eyes and murmured in annoyance. The next moment I felt something hitting me hard at the back of my head.
And it all went black.
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“Yeah, just leave them in that room.” A familiar voice shouted orders in the distance. “Make sure the door is locked. Smee, you’re on guard here and make sure no one goes inside before I come back from a shower.”
“Aye, Captain.” Someone barked.
Captain’s menacing laughter slowly died away. I remembered now as his devil grin reappeared in my head. The grin of the man who killed my mother.
Shaking my head slightly, I tried to get up from the dusty floor I was lying on. A sharp pain rapidly pierced me at the back where I was hit and I let out a shriek. Other girls and young women who heard my cry came closer to help lifting me up.
“Are you alright, Hurit?” Adsila was the first to rush to my aid and was now sitting beside me.
“I’m okay.” Biting my lips, I turned away from her, feeling a lump in my throat. The picture of last moment before I blacked out came back once more: my mother in blood, suffocating, I was hit and brought here; All because of her. If she had not passed my wigwam, my mother would still be alive.
Another girl sobbed silently and other girls and women, too, started to cry as if the fence that was holding back their feeling was finally torn down. Adsila went to hug the youngest of us though her eyes were shimmering with tears. Shame began to sink as I watched her hushing the girl. We were about the same age but I, the only daughter of the ogima, was doing nothing but blaming her best friend for something she did not do.
I was helping myself to get up when I heard a defiant shout from outside.
“So this is where the Great Davy Jones is hiding, isn’t it?”
Those near the door peeked through the only window and gasped in amazement.
“He is…flying…” One girl muttered as I forced my way to the door.
“Come, Davy, let’s fight!” The boy, dressed in a green shirt and pants, was not much older than me. A red feather on his hat was fluttering as he flew swiftly around the ship, over the terrified crews.
“It can’t be…” I whispered in disbelief.
“Kitcki Manitou must have sent him to save us!” Someone yelled as she began thumping the door, crying with replenished hope. “Here! We’re here!! Help!”
“What’s this?” He hovered in front of our door. “Huh? You want me open this, girl? Sure!”
“What is this mess!?” Captain with a towel around his head bellowed angrily before spotting the invader. “And what the hell do you think you are doing, brat?”
“Oh, just…trying to help these ladies. I’m Peter Pan, by the way.” His hand lifted the bolt and opened the door for us as he introduced himself.
“Catch him!!” Davy Jones roared at his stunned crews. “Dead or alive, get him!”
A human who could fly might be frightening but his men seemed to know better what would follow if they did not capture this boy. They reached for their weapons at their waist and the moment later the black sticks in their hands begin sending out a spark with the familiar earsplitting noise.
“This way, Hurit!” Adsila barked, dragging me behind a barrel. Other people were running madly for cover.
“Hmm, you don’t really think you can stop me with those things, do ya? Sorry, but bullets are too slow,” grinned Peter Pan, drawing his dagger. “Try this!”
He swooped down on the helpless crews with the speed no man could do, slithering around their wrists to drop their sticks. Painful cry could be heard everywhere as the wounded crews fell down to their knees, grabbing their injured hands.
“Hey, it’s not that bad. At least I didn’t cut it off!”
It might be either in the way he laughed at them or the way he took in his absolute triumph that raised my doubt. Despite the fact that we were rescued, he, too, was a complete stranger. Unlike most of us, I did not believe that he was sent by the Great Spirit Kitcki Manitou.
“C’mon, ladies, let’s go home first! They’ll have to pay for this,” howled Pan as we were jumping into small canoes.
“That’s enough!” Davy Jones bellowed, a gun in his hand pointing at Peter Pan.
“As you wish, sir.” Pan, beaming, glided to his side and chopped his hand off in the blink of an eye. “Don’t die yet, Davy.” Pan lowered his voice as he uttered the last sentence. “If you’re still interested in those redskins and this island, we can have more fights, and that would be fun.”
If I had been a little faster, I would already be in the boat with others, not having heard it.
“What the…”
“Come ladies!” He circled vigorously above us while we started rowing back to our land.
The refreshing scent of wild flowers from the forest at last completely replaced the salty breeze from the sea. Since we landed on the beach, we had been scuttling hysterically and there were the sound of laughter and cry along the way. We were caught, freed, and unbelievably we were heading back to where we belong. Though what lay at the end of this road was still a mystery.
“But at least we’re going back home.” I whispered.
“Not you, bitch!” A hand stifled my mouth, holding me back from others ahead of me. “You’ve heard it, haven’t you? That’s why you’ve to be the first to go, erm...” Peter Pan paused before started his flight, with me struggling in his arms. “Tiger Lily! Your name is Tiger Lily, then. Well, not that it matters” He shrugged.
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Thinking about it now, everything originated from an arrival of that large canoe, followed by their dirty attack on us. Some of my people got killed. Girls and women were taken to quench their sexual desire. And just when the worst part seemed to already turn up with screams, tears, and the smell of blood thick in the air, my mother got killed protecting me. But her life too was wasted for I was taken as well.
It should have been the end of it when the boy with his feathered hat came to save us, except for that he did not come to help and we were never rescued.
I thought I was dead since my mother had gone, yet I was wrong. Pan took me to another part of the island where no one would hear even if I screamed to death. It was there, deep in the wood, where he pushed me to the ground, mumbling the name I did not possess. On the earth of my very own land, all my happiness, hope, dreams, and even my life were scattered before me. I tasted the last salty tears on my cheeks and wondered how many deaths we had to suffer before we could truly die.
